


The criteria for considering a piece of work an Anthology seems a bit vague.

by citrus_season



Category: Gintama
Genre: A Collection, M/M, of short short stories
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:54:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29056227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/citrus_season/pseuds/citrus_season
Summary: It's not Zura, it's a collection of short stories!
Relationships: Hijikata Toshirou/Sakata Gintoki
Comments: 9
Kudos: 36





	The criteria for considering a piece of work an Anthology seems a bit vague.

**Author's Note:**

> READ : I didn't add any tags because there is too much to tag. There are no trigger warnings (as far as I believe.) This is a two part series, but no story in the first chapter ends on a cliff-hanger. Every story in this chapter is complete.

**_1\. Make a long story salt._ **

"Gin-chan's value has gone down." Kagura says, one word stretching into the next. 

The Koronamin C isn't appealing anymore. Kagura puts the half empty bottle down on the picnic blanket. She sighs, "I'm as if a flower that got too much sun and too little water."

"Oh my," Otae speaks up next to her, "we're finally here to enjoy Hanami, and you seem so down. Is something bothering you, Kagura-chan?" 

Kagura looks up as if she was a spring pushed together finally released. Her scowl turns her smile upside-down, " _Anego,_ " she says, "it seems I've drank too much already?"

Otae places a hand on her shoulder, "It's alright," she says in a gentle voice, "it's perfectly fine to borrow some liquid courage sometimes. It's not easy to express what's on your mind all the time, even for someone as earnest as you, Kagura-chan."

Tears reflect sunlight in Kagura's eyes. She presses a hand to her heart, " _Anego,_ " she says, "You're the best for a reason after all."

"I agree." A gargled response comes from a few feet away. Kagura looks at the mass of hair pretending to be a person on the grass next to them. Her brows come together. 

Otae drives her fist into the creature with a grunt. It makes a sound and deflates, unresponsive. She turns back to Kagura with a smile. "Now," she says, "why don't you share your woes with me?"

Kagura sighs. Otae is running a hand down her back soothingly. "As you know, Gin-chan doesn't have many perks. But one thing he's useful for is cooking. He's a great cook, yes?"

"Yes, I can attest to that. Shin-chan brought home left-overs a few times. Although they aren't as good as my Tamagoyaki."

A pause. "Lately," Kagura sighs. She looks up at the overarching cherry blossom trees that seem to hold them and their merry laughter, their drunken screams, and this conversation safely within their large hands. "Well, lately, anything he cooks is salty." 

"Salty?"

Kagura nods. "Even the foods that are supposed to be sweet are salty. But he eats as if everything is fine, yes? That pisses me off. But there’s something even more infuriating. He gets mad at _me_ for not eating his salt wonders. He says I'm wasting food! But Shinpachi says he will eventually die from oedema so not to care that much." 

Otae hums thoughtfully.

"I'm making sense, yes?" Kagura asks, "You do understand me, Anego?"

"Yes. Of course, Kagura-chan." Otae smiles warmly. “You know,” she says, “they say people in love can’t taste salt.”

Kagura frowns at this. She whips her head around, her eyes raking through the rowdy bunch until they land on a red-faced and giddy Gintoki. He’s currently choke-holding Shinsengumi’s Jimmy, who’s frothing at the mouth.

“No way,” she says, “I would’ve known, yes? If that were the case, I would have noticed.”

“Well,” Otae says with a humble nod of her head, “he might be very good at hiding his emotions. Some people find solace in rejecting reality by pretending it doesn’t exist.”

Kagura considers Otae’s words, and falls back against the soft blanket. Pink petals rain on her chubby cheeks, and she blinks a few times. “That sounds like a drag.” She says.

Otae laughs.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” a little chuckle, “you sound just like him. But you know,” Otae says, “he might be thinking the exact same thing.”

“But his food still tastes like sweat, yes?!”

“That’s because there’s nowhere you can hide when you cook,” Otae smiles, “and isn’t Gin-san’s food so delicious because he cooks everything with his heart?”

During the pause in their conversation, Kagura’s thoughts go back to Otae’s _dark matter_ several times. There’s a lot she wants to ask, but living in Edo she’s learned that there’s a sense of danger attached to curiosity.

“I mean,” Otae says eventually, voice a little softer. “Maybe he just has a nasty cold and can’t taste food properly.”

Kagura pouts. Otae chuckles and pats her tummy. “Come on now,” she says, “put those worries away and have fun for now.”

  
  
  
  


The sun is nearly setting when Kagura walks to where Gintoki is lying half-dead. He has drool running down his chin, and his cheeks are so red they remind her of candied-apples. She kicks him lightly in the stomach. 

“Gin-chan,” she says, “I said, Gin- _chan._ ”

Gintoki gurgles, and blinks open heavy eyelids. “What?” he grumbles, and immediately puts a hand over his mouth, gagging.

Kagura extends her palm, “Gimme money, I want nmaibo.”

Gintoki swats her hand away and turns on his side. Kagura crouches and pulls out his wallet from his pocket. Suddenly, she pauses, and easily turns Gintoki onto his back by his shoulder. _He will choke on his vomit, don’t do that, Kagura-chan!_ A voice that sounds like Shinpachi’s blares in her head. She shakes Gintoki awake.

“Gin-chan,” she insists, “I said, Gin- _chan!_ ”

“What is it, you’re so annoying,” Gintoki mumbles, expression looking pained.

“Who is it that you love?”

Gintoki opens his eyes, and looks at her in confusion. Then curiously, his tired gaze shifts to the left. He blinks his eyes, and then closes them heavily. “What are you talkin’ about?” He asks, disgruntled, “Only thing I’d love is for you to leave me alone, punk.” 

Just like that, he’s unconscious again. Kagura turns her head, and finds the sleeping figure of Toshirou at the end of her gaze. Suddenly, it’s like the lights turning on after a lengthy black-out, and finding the furniture was there in those exact spots all along.

**_3\. "So, Ponyo, What’s your dad like? ” _ **

“Don’t cry and embarrass us, okay?” 

“Right back at you,” Gintoki says, “There’s a new set of napkins in the glove compartment, want me to go and fetch them for you?”

Toshirou glares at Gintoki, and then stops walking. As a consequence, the child holding his hand stutters to a stop. Gintoki, who's holding the child's other hand, also stops. 

Hurriedly, Toshirou gets on one knee in front of Tama. He adjusts the napkin pinned to her uniform shirt in a flowy triangle. “Should I put another one in her bag?” he asks.

“What?” Gintoki’s voice is airy and high-pitched, “Didn’t you already put three in her bag? There’s one in her pocket as well. Do you think she’s going there to sell napkins?”

“Shutㅡ stop talking.” Toshirou barely catches himself, “I don’t want to hear that from someone who put two bento sandwich boxes in her bag. She’s not even going to be there for lunch.”

Out of nowhere, Tama yawns, her grip tensing around both of their fingers.

Toshirou stands up, “Look, she’s yawning!” he yells at Gintoki, “I told you not to let her watch movies so late into the night!”

Gintoki bristles, “It was _Kiki’s Delivery Service!_ I’m not going to steal away our kid’s childhood just because you have a stick up your, I mean, you _joined_ us right after the title music came on anyway!”

“It was _Kiki’s Delivery service!”_ Toshirou bellows, “If it was _Ponyo,_ maybe I’d have been more responsible! It’s _your_ fault for putting it on!”

Gintoki gasps, closing into his husband’s personal space, squashing Tama in between, “You take that back! _Ponyo_ is an animation marvel! Do you think I haven’t seen you crying every time you watch Ponyo running on the waves?!”

“Tama-chan!” A kid yells in their direction. Toshirou and Gintoki both look at the child waving energetically towards Tama. “Come quickly!” 

Tama jumps in her spot and looks up at both of them, stars in her eyes. “Need to go!” she urges. Toshirou looks at Gintoki. Gintoki is already looking at him. There’s something very complicated in his gaze. Toshirou is having a terrible time with respiration.

“Tou-chan!” She tugs at Toshirou’s hand, “Papa!” She looks up at Gintoki, “Friend is calling me!”

“Let go, Gintoki.” he says. 

“You let go, Toshirou.” Gintoki replies.

“Papa! Tou-chan!” Tama insists.

Toshirou feels his heart-rate picking up, his grip doesn’t ease around their kid's small hand. 

Gintoki kneels down in front of Tama. He glances up at Toshirou steadily. “Baby,” he says, “Papa and Tou-chan will be just around the corner. You know the place? We go there for ice cream. Both of us will come pick you up in three hours, okay?”

Toshirou blinks, the spot behind his nose is dangerously itchy. He kneels down next to Gintoki on the concrete. “Yes, that’s right,” he says, “you’ve memorized both of our phone numbers, yes?” Tama nods, a little impatient in the way her head moves quickly, “I also have your teacher’s number on speed-dial,” he glances at Gintoki, “one call and Tou-chan and Papa will be here in a minute.”

“Yup, yup!” Tama nods, “So let Tama go! Friends are waiting!” She leans forward and kisses Toshirou on his cheek, and then Gintoki, “At home, we will watch _Ponyo!”_ She says.

Slowly, Toshirou lets go of her hand, as does Gintoki. There is a breath-stopping family hug. Then with a large grin, Tama runs inside the building. The teacher looks at them both with reassuring smiles. 

All of a sudden, Toshirou’s hand is empty. His face starts to crumble. “Hey,” Gintoki says, taking Toshirou’s hand into his. His grip is sturdy. “Don't tell me, are you crying?”

“No,” Toshirou sniffs. “I’m just hungry.”

  
  
  
  


“Excuse me, what’s wrong?” The waitress asks timidly, standing a little away from their table.

Toshirou coughs into his fist after choking on a haggard breath. He sniffs in his snot. Gintoki wraps an arm wrapped around his shoulders. 

“Do you want another glass of water?” She sounds like a broken record. Through his peripheral vision, Toshirou watches Gintoki pull out another napkin out of the pack which he then rubs roughly against his wet face. Toshirou doesn’t understand the use within it, as tears flow down Gintoki’s cheeks once again naturally.

“Sir?”

“Leave us alone!” Gintoki chokes out, “It’s our daughter’s first day of school!”

**_4\. Live (get cursed) and learn._ **

On the first night of enduring the curse, Gorilla Isao takes Gintoki to the Shinsengumi headquarters. They are perched on the compound walls.

“They would offer stray animals food, I know those guys. They’re good guys.” 

There’s a ruckus somewhere. One of Gintoki’s ears twitch in that direction. “You’re a stray beast,” he says, “no matter how good the guy is, if he has a decent head on his shoulders then he’s running in the opposite direction.”

“Take that back!” Kondo bellows, pounding his own chest with his fists, “I may be a beast in bed, but I’m nothing if not a tender-hearted stray who’s trying to find his way in this world!”

Gintoki clicks his tongue and gets up on all four, “Whatever,” he purrs, “I’m not going in there to beg for food.”

“Why not?”

“That hard-headed jerk lives here.”

“Toshi?” Kondo asks, “Toshi is very tender-hearted. I’m sure he will be one of the first to help us.” 

“ _Huh?”_ Gintoki says, and then brings a curled paw to do away the itch near his whiskers, “What bullshit,” he says, “He’s just gonna stuff us with mayonnaise and mount us on a wall.”

“I don’t think Toshi’s into taxidermy.”

Gintoki’s head snaps up in alertness. Footsteps rush towards them like waves. “There!” A uniformed man points towards Gorilla Isao. The men following behind pause. A few gasps add life to the otherwise silent night. 

“You guys,” Gintoki notices Kondo’s eyes have become tear-filled. He places a hand over his heart.

“Capture it!” One of the men yells, “We must return it to the zoo it ran away from!”

  
  
  
  


In the noisy aftermath, Gintoki ends up leaping into a zashiki. He peeks behind the shoji, the coast is clear. He sighs tiredly.

“What are you doing in here?”

Gintoki freezes up. He looks back in rusty movements. Hijikata stands taller than life behind him. Trepidation starts to build underneath his fur.

Hijikata blinks, and plops down cross legged on the tatami. His expression is unusually lax. “I ate a lot today,” he says, “I’m not picky, but I really like Tonkatsu.”

_Okay,_ Gintoki thinks, moving towards the door. 

“Wait!” Gintoki pauses, “Aren’t you hungry?”

  
  
  


A small hiccup startles Gintoki’s tiny body. The empty tuna can clinks as it rolls and hits the leg of Hijikata’s desk. “Yamazaki told me cats get sick if they eat Mayonnaise,” Hijikata says, “that must be a horrible life to live. But a lot of people love the Shinsengumi canned tuna. As they should.”

Gintoki is starting to get sleepy. When he realizes it, he’s already rubbing his face against the rough ridges of the Tatami. He curls in his spot, and falls onto his back. Lazily, he blinks. The room is clean, and unexpectedly, there’s a mild incense scent that sits pleasantly inside Gintoki’s sensitive nose.

He doesn’t remember smelling anything like this from Okita or Kondo. Gintoki glances at the cigarette pack placed next to Hijikata’s feet, then at the artfully done calligraphy scrolls hung all along the walls. 

Gintoki rolls onto his side with a huff. His gaze catches a few intricately built shelves. Then there are steady hands under his armpits, and he’s being picked up.

Gintoki’s body feels too heavy. “You remind me of someone.” Hijikata says, holding him at eye-level at a distance. 

_Well, shit._ Gintoki thinks.

Hijikata’s brows furrow. “I don’t get the obsession with you guys,” he says eventually, “what’s so great about furballs?”

Then, carefully, Hijikata supports Gintoki’s butt with one large hand, and with the other, brings him to his chest. He brushes his cheek gently against the top of Gintoki’s head. Gintoki’s ears twitch, eyes wide. 

There is a long pause.

“ _Uwah,”_ Hijikata whispers, voice overwhelmed with wonder, “ _So soft.”_

**_5\. Writing fic can be sweat-inducing when you don’t play video games._ **

“Want to play DQ at mine?” Gintoki asks.

“Sorry, I have things to do.” Toshirou zips up his bag and stands up, diligently pushing in his chair below his desk.

“Huh? What things?”

A pair of doe eyes consider him. “Things.” he says.

“What _things?”_

“Hijikata-kun,” one of the girls next to their desks perks up, “are you going to make chocolate for someone?”

Toshirou doesn’t negate it. The girl and her friend squeal in delight.

  
  
  


“What do they mean he’s making chocolate?!” 

“It means exactly what it implies. Maybe Hijikata has a crush!” Tatsuma cheers, yakisoba bread half-eaten with crumbs flying everywhere.

“Shut the fuck up!” Gintoki says, elbowing him. Tatsuma chokes, “Why are you eating convenient store yakisoba bread after school? Go home and eat the dinner your mom made, you ungrateful asswipe!”

“Why’re you taking your anger out on me?!”

“Shaddep!” Gintoki yells, “My entire life is turning upside down!”

“You’re so dramatic.” Takasugi drawls, lips around a straw, dark coffee can in hand, “If you like him, be a man and tell him that. You sneak around like a pathetic little mouse, and now he’s making chocolate for someone else.”

“I don’t wanna hear that from someone drinking banana milk from a coffee can.”

“You’re all wrong!” Katsura says, “What if he’s making chocolate not just for _anyone_? What if he’s making it for someone we all know?”

“Zura,” Gintoki looks at him. Katsura smiles at him and gives him a thumbs up.

“What if he’s making it for _himself?_ Oh, what admirable self-love! Gintoki, you _must_ buy him a dildoㅡ”

Takasugi pushes a hand against Katsura’s mouth. “This is a residential area.” He says darkly.

“You guys are the least helpful people I’ve had the misfortune to associate myself with.”

“If it bothers you that much, just go and ask him.” Tatsuma says, “He’s one of your best friends.”

Gintoki frowns. “Okay,” he says, “I’m gonna go do that!”

“Now?!” Katsura yells as Gintoki jogs away.

“Tell Shouyo I’m gonna be a little late for dinner!”

Takasugi scoffs, “He’s afraid he’s gonna lose to me in DQ.”

“Of course that’s not it, headass!”

  
  
  


“You can’t come in.” Toshirou blocks the entryway.

“Why not?” Gintoki’s having a hard time being assertive because the apron Toshirou’s wearing has _frills._

“I’m busy.” Toshirou says, “Unlike you, I have meaningful things to do with my life.”

“Meaningful things like making someone _chocolate?”_

Toshirou clicks his tongue, “I know it’s difficult for you to do, but stop being annoying. Go home.”

A pause.

“Me too,” Gintoki says, “Make chocolate for me too.”

They stare at each other. Toshirou sighs. There is a familiar tremble to his lips.

“Go home, Gintoki.” Toshirou says with a barely contained smile, and then the door is shut in his face.

  
  
  


“Here.” Toshirou hands him a heart-shaped chocolate first thing in the morning.

Gintoki takes it carefully. 

“You know what it means, right?” Toshirou asks him.

“What?” Gintoki asks, preoccupied. He's heard that keeping chocolate away from light helps preserve it.

Toshirou huffs. The classroom doors are slid open. “To your seats!” The teacher yells.

During class, Toshirou passes Gintoki a note.

Once he reads it, Gintoki curls up on his desk.

“Sakata-kun?” the teacher asks, “Are you alright?”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, “Can I go to the infirmary?”

  
  
  


_“Any chocolate I make is only for you._

_Because_ _I like you.”_

**_6\. Break the ice by letting him break your back._ **

The actor who's topping Toshirou today is handsome. His name is Gintoki. Though when he goes to greet him, as per etiquette, Gintoki looks at Toshirou with an expression so lethargic that the words get stuck somewhere in his throat. So his speech comes out reluctant, scratchy, and the worst of allㅡ forced. 

"He's gonna be terrible, I know it." Toshirou tells his manager in the dressing room.

"Let's not be judgemental."

"I know that type," Toshirou says, "They think porn is just fucking. How difficult can it be, yeah?" He wipes off the excess lube between his ass cheeks with a warm towel, and throws on a robe, "They take it easy, ignoring the fact that porn is scripted. They can't handle the director's instructions. I've seen people go soft faster than an overly sentimental mother forgiving her delinquent son for the hundredth time." 

"Again," his manager says, "Let's not be judgemental."

"All I'm saying is that he looks like he underestimates this type of work, and people like that are always difficult to work with." Toshirou checks his texts, and hands over his phone to his manager after locking it. "I just wanna be done with it and go home." 

The tip of Gintoki's dick hits the back of his throat. Toshirou's muscles reflexively close around it. He chokes just as Gintoki groans above him, and Toshirou feels the guttural sound in his stomach. 

As soon as he's pulled away, Toshirou coughs harshly. Dollops of pooled saliva drip from his mouth, sticking to his lips. Gintoki grabs a fistful of Toshirou’s hair and tugs his head up. 

The steady gaze he's fixed under feels all-consuming. Gintoki looks at him like there's nothing else he'd rather look at in the room. Then he leans down and licks up the drool from Toshirou’s chin. 

Toshirou's dick twitches. Gintoki sits up with a little quirk to his lips. He slaps his cockhead against Toshirou’s cheek a few times. 

"Come on," Gintoki says. He hooks his thumb behind Toushirou’s lower teeth and pushes his jaw down, "Open wide, sweetheart. Lemme stuff you full again."

And it's porn. It's in the script. But Toshirou has rarely felt so overwhelmed on set before. 

The director cuts the scene. During the waiting period, Toshirou doesn't have to put in any manual effort to keep himself hard. By the time he realizes it, his gaze has already travelled towards Gintoki several times. 

He takes another glance, and finds Gintoki’s eyes already on him. Then the director is asking them to get into position again.

Gintoki holds Toshirou down by his nape with his face buried into the bedding, and fucks him open with three fingers and too much lube. At the beginning of filming Toshirou had seen the corded muscles of Gintoki’s arms when he had stretched to pull off his shirt. Now he can feel the strength coiled within them.

He's half afraid he's going to cum when Gintoki presses his fingers against his prostate and rubs the muscle until his knees are barely able to support his lower body. The director doesn't interrupt them. 

When he thinks about it, the director has barely given them any pointers. Through the bone-melting pleasure of having his prostate massaged so expertly, Toshirou distantly recalls the script. He isn't supposed to have an orgasm here.

He waits for the director to cut the scene. When it doesn't happen, and the feeling in his abdomen threatens to spill over and overflow, he decides to take matters into his own hands.

He grips Gintoki's wrist with trembling fingers. Gintoki pauses. Toshirou rises up on his knees, supporting himself with one arm against the headboard. He twists and presses his mouth to Gintoki’s in a deep kiss. Gintoki wraps his hand around Toshirou’s dick and pumps it once, the touch sloppy with how wet his fingers are.

"Enough," Toshirou says the lines against Gintoki's lips. "I'm gonna cum."

"You don't want to?"

"No," Toshirou licks his lips. Gintoki’s eyes are immediately there. "Want to cum on your cock." 

And Toshirou rides Gintoki until his thighs are burning. He has Gintoki’s arms pinned to the mattress above his head. He’s mesmerised by the thick veins beneath Gintoki’s skin. Whenever Gintoki tenses, the tension in his muscles shift, and more than once he has wanted to test how they would give underneath the press of his teeth. 

Toshirou barely feels conscious of the camera at this point in his career. He simply throws his head back and decides to get lost in the sensation. Whenever he glances down, Gintoki’s gaze is always entirely on him. Toshirou smirks. He pushes his thumb against Gintoki’s jaw and kisses him until his dick twitches inside him. 

"The way you acted this morningㅡ I thought you were gonna be a stick in the mud." Gintoki tells him during the cool down. 

Toshirou is slowly stretching his muscles on the bed. Gintoki is lying on his stomach and looks at him with his face partially hidden within the blankets. His expression is once again, lethargic. Only now, it suits the context.

Toshirou considers this. "I guess that's alright," he says, "I thought you didn't know how to use your dick." 

What about that is alright?"

"We both had misconceptions about each other."

"Who says I don't think you're still a stuck up?"

"Didn't you cum like, twice?"

"Huh? So did you. But what does that have to do with anything?"

**Author's Note:**

> So, uh, I rushed to finish this because it is my birthday and I wanted to post something today! I'm at that age where a lot of things feel awkward and uncomfortable on birthdays... 
> 
> I didn't want my impatience to ruin the quality of my writing, so here are the first 5 stories. I already have a basic skeleton for the next story, so I should be able to finish it soon. For now, everything hurts and I'm hungry. Have a nice weekend!
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/citrus_season)  
> 


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